


Charlie is a Punk Rocker

by derryderrydown



Category: British Comedian RPF
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-06-05
Updated: 2010-06-05
Packaged: 2017-10-09 22:31:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 361
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/92298
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/derryderrydown/pseuds/derryderrydown
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the anonymeme prompt: Charlie is a punk rock frontman</p>
            </blockquote>





	Charlie is a Punk Rocker

The thing is, punk died with the birth of the 1980s. Charlie knows this, even though he was only just old enough to have heard rumours of puberty at the time when punk's grave was being dug.

He has very vague memories of the two punks in his village, who were regarded with suspicion and terror. And still are, to some extent, despite the fact that one is now an accountant, the other does something in computers, and neither's worn leather anywhere except on their feet for a quarter of a century.

Doors are shut when Charlie comes to visit his parents.

It's not his fault. He never _planned_ to be a professional punk rocker. He was meant to be designing video games at this point in his life, not standing on stage at Wembley, hurling abuse at a crowd that lovingly laps up every bile-filled, spittle-fuelled rant.

But university gets you into the strangest situations and flatmates can be incredibly persuasive when you're drunk, which was how Charlie found himself on stage with Screenburn on the night when an A&amp;R scout spotted them. (He still thinks that Screenburn is a stupid name for a band, more suited to a TV review column.)

He kept waiting for all the fuss to stop, so he could go back to video games and gadgets and other fun stuff.

Twenty years on, and he's starting to think he's stuck. Reviewers keep saying his lyrics are startlingly intelligent in their cynicism and bitterness. The NME continues to fawn over him, no matter how much he insults them.

He persuaded the rest of the band to dump Sony and launch their own download-only, DRM-free record label, confident in the belief that they'd be bankrupt in a year. No. No, people kept _paying_ for stuff they could easily steal. Why did he have the only moral fans in the world?

"You're all a bunch of cunting lemmings!" he yells at the crowd.

A girl faints at the foot of the stage.

"Oh, fuck the lot of you," he yells, and Mia kicks into the opening riffs of their latest number one, and Charlie starts to sing.


End file.
